


Seven minutes in hell

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Banter, Drunkenness, Gay Panic, M/M, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, They literally just argue for seven minutes, Touch-Starved, what did you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zen had offered to join in on the seven minutes in heaven game, in high hopes of getting to spend seven minutes alone with Mc. Not the damn trust fund jerk.
Relationships: Han Jumin/Zen | Ryu Hyun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	Seven minutes in hell

Sitting stiffly in a cramped closet, Zen wonders how he got himself into this situation in the first place. 

Zen had offered to join in on the seven minutes in heaven game, in high hopes of getting to spend seven minutes alone with Mc. _Not_ the damn trust fund jerk.

“Can you uncross your arms? Your elbow is in my _side.”_ Zen hisses, trying to scooch over away from Jumin as much as he can. Which is barely even possible. The only closet that the building had is a small storage one for a vacuum cleaner, and maybe some stacked chairs. 

“Then where am I supposed to put my hands?” Jumin retorts, not even glancing in Zen’s direction.

“I don’t _know!_ In your pockets?” He replies through slightly clenched teeth. And when Jumin makes no effort to move, at all-- Zen lightly punches him in the side. 

“How mature.”

“ _Listen_ , if you could just be quiet for six more minutes, that would be fucking amazing. We both know we only joined in this stupid game for Mc--”

“I did not.” Jumin replies so quickly, that Zen doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

“ _What?”_

“I _said_ , I did not.” 

Zen blinks, confused. Maybe the alcohol, and the slight fog in his brain is making him slow. “Then what? You wanted to make out with Jaehee or something?”

Jumin makes a disgusted expression, scoffing. “Absolutely not. Please never say that again. I only joined in to humor you all, not for anyone in particular.” 

“Huh? So you’d just be okay with being shoved in a closet with, I dunno, _Seven_?” 

“That is not what I said, but take it as you wish.”

Zen wracks his brain for something that he can respond with that doesn’t change the subject, but he ends up topic-skipping anyways. “Are you not drunk off your ass right now? You had at least three glasses of wine out there, man.” He knows Jumin is not a lightweight, but three glasses of wine is still a lot for _anyone_. Even _he_ feels slightly disoriented, and he’d only had a beer and a half. 

“No. I am not a lightweight, you know this very well.” 

“I don’t even think you’d know when you’re drunk, you don’t show any emotion, _ever.”_

“I would know when i’m drunk, I have been drunk before.” Jumin responds, glancing at his watch. Two minutes.

“What? _You’ve_ been drunk before?” 

“Yes? Is that not what I just said?”

Zen grinds his teeth. Does he have to respond to everything so.. snarly? “That’s not what I meant--” He stops himself as Jumin shifts, and then Jumin’s hand is on his leg. _His_ fucking _leg_. “What the hell are you doing?”

“There’s nowhere else to rest my hand, this is my only option.” Jumin says, so casually that Zen wants to punch the lights out of him. 

“You could’ve- Your _pockets--”_

“If you have such a problem with it, then don’t. It’s been seven minutes now.” He states, as he glances to the door which is now being opened up. Jumin stands first.

“Wh--” Confused as hell, and processing what just happened, he sputters dumbly and blinks. Staring down at his leg. 

Gah.. maybe he’s more touch-starved than he’d initially thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> i have MM brain rot. quarantine has got me back on my bullshit.
> 
> characterization probably sucks


End file.
